Monday, January 18, 2010

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On an unusually balmy fall afternoon, we noticed something in the sky. At first we thought it was a flock of birds or a clump of dark smoke until Dionne (known as Eagle Eyes in certain circles) noticed the parachutes - small parachutes, the size of your average turtle shell and colored a striking shade of green. Beneath these tiny parachutes were small, black boxes. Naturally Cameron thought they were explosives, sent to destroy the very fabric of America. Dionne, however, assured us that these parachutes bore loads not of explosives, but of cameras. It was then that we heard a peculiar noise, like someone snapping their fingers to an irregular beat. Not only were there cameras floating lazily down upon us, but they were taking pictures! Astounded and with delusions of fame dancing through our minds, we began to pose, strut, and ape for the cameras. Soon the entire town, spurred on by our actions, came pouring out of their homes to join us in our lofty aspirations of 15 minutes of fame. Before we knew it, each of us was attempting to outdo the other with increasingly shocking exploits, all for the eyes of these floating cameras. The depravity knew no boundaries - genitals were exposed, copulation involving multiple partners and never-before-seen positions occurred, feces was thrown, blood was guzzled, and severed heads were juggled. Time lost all meaning and the depravity continued until the final floating, clicking camera landed lazily upon a park bench, its parachute collapsing over the lens like a curtain crashing down onto the stage. Caught in all manner of compromising positions, we blinked blankly at each other until, embarrassed, we collected our clothes, removed hatchets from skulls, and meekly stumbled back into our homes. The cameras, left where the fell from the sky, were eventually collected by a man in pink overalls driving an unmarked van with no windows. Things, to say the least, have never been the same in our town... - M.

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